


Dress Blues

by ultragirlvfr750



Category: The Closer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 23:32:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3788428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultragirlvfr750/pseuds/ultragirlvfr750
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This one's for Amanda.  She sent me a prompt: Brenda and Sharon kissing while in their uniforms.</p>
<p>Set directly at the end of The Closer Season 5 ep 7.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dress Blues

Brenda shifted on her feet and worked hard at holding Captain Raydor’s unwavering gaze. The hallway at Parker Centre was not the place to harangue her yet again about her unrelenting persistence in short-stopping Brenda at every turn in their shared investigation. Not when there was a funeral to attend, and especially not with them both in their dress uniforms. Brenda hadn’t imagined that Sharon Raydor, in her role as the FID Captain who had posthumously investigated the very officers for whom the dress uniforms were needed in the first place, would even consider attending the ceremony. 

And yet here she was, resplendent in her dress blues. Her thick chocolate hair so often draped perfectly to her shoulders was yanked back in a severe bun, flawlessly pinned at the nape of her neck. It mirrored Brenda’s and she had to stop herself from nervously checking to make sure her riotous curls were still under control. 

“…..in one Division alone due to lack of oversight. Not to mention the loss of trust the LAPD needs to remain effective,” the Captain’s voice interrupted Brenda’s appraisal of her perfectly turned out uniform and she bit her lower lip, slightly berating herself for yet again remaining on the back foot when it came to a verbal sparring match with the Captain.

“There has to be a better way,” she finally managed, feeling victorious in her ability to hold her own with those steely green eyes boring into her from behind their thick black frames. 

“Well, until then,” a ghost of a smile flickered across the Captain’s features, “you’ve got me.”

Brenda sighed and awkwardly returned her smile, willing her hands to stay still at her side. 

“I see you’re going to the funeral?” as soon as the words were out of her mouth Brenda mentally kicked herself. Of course the Captain was going to the funeral. She was wearing her dress uniform for heaven’s sake.

“Yes,” Captain Raydor replied and continued to pin Brenda with her stare.  
 Brenda ducked her head, the collar on her dress shirt suddenly too tight.

“Don’t worry,” the Captain’s face broke into a wide smile, one with real mirth this time, “I have my own car.”

She turned on her heel and strode down the hall, leaving Brenda to stand gaping after her retreating form. Oh that woman. Brenda lifted her hand and scrubbed at her brow. She’d gotten the last word again.

Brenda turned on her heel, her hand now clutching at her hair curled at back of her neck. It seemed none of the pins had fallen out and she had at least looked presentable even if she hadn’t been as proficient as she usually was when she verbally sparred with the FID Captain.

Brenda had to admit it was the uniform that put her off her game. She hadn’t expected the Captain to look so, Brenda wracked her brain for correct phrase. Regal. That wasn’t quite right but it would have to do. 

Lost in thought and again fiddling with the bun at the back of her neck she’d heard the familiar, husky voice call out her title.

“Chief Johnson?…”

She’d turned and had to forcibly stop herself from telegraphing her sharp inhale. 

A welter of confusing observations had cascaded through her.

The Captain was actually smiling. At her. It had lit up her face and softened her stern features. And the uniform clung to her curves and highlighted the strength of her physique in a way that Brenda had never noticed before. 

Captain Sharon Raydor was a knockout. Brenda had flushed, her eyes widening. Where had that thought come from?

She had shaken her head, pursed her lips into a semblance of what she thought was a strained smile and returned the other woman’s rank with what she hoped sounded like exasperation. In reality her heart been thudding far too quickly in her chest and she’d had to fight to keep a neutral expression.

Now as Brenda continued down the hall toward her murder room she couldn’t help but feel a little bit chagrined. While she and her squad would be seen as heroes at the impending funeral of the fallen officers, she knew that Captain Raydor and her squad, if indeed internal affairs were attending, would be given short shrift by the rest of the department.   
 For the first time Brenda acknowledged the courage it took for the Captain and her team to walk into a room, knowing full well that from the outset they would be ostracized and belittled by their own colleagues. The thin blue line would be extended to them in the line of fire, but only in the barest of ways. Brenda’s face flushed again as she thought back to her behaviour at the beginning of the investigation and the pettiness she’d displayed in insisting Captain Raydor take her own car to the notification. The woman was just doing her job after all. A job that the officers of the LAPD were stuck with whether they liked it or not. 

Brenda realized that she’d never even bothered to find out anything about Sharon Raydor at all. She’d never put aside her annoyance for the woman. Hadn’t separated the woman from her position. She’d been so hell bent on closing cases and circling the wagons around her officers she hadn’t given any thought to what it must be like to be universally hated in your own work environment day after grinding day. 

Who was Sharon Raydor when she went home and took off her Captain’s title along with her uniform? 

Brenda chewed at her bottom lip, a frown wrinkling her forehead as she pushed through the doors into the murder room. Thank God her team was there and she was able to shove the sudden thought of Sharon Raydor unbuttoning her dress shirt firmly from her mind.

The funeral was a long and solemn affair punctuated for Brenda by her seeming inability to stop stealing sideways glances at the patrician FID Captain. It was as though her foray into mulling over the idea that Sharon Raydor might be an actual person instead of just a relentless, rule-bound automaton, sent to hound her at every turn had made it impossible for her to stop watching the older woman, to see if she would do something, anything that would give Brenda a glimpse of the woman beneath the uniform.

Several times Sharon caught Brenda in the act of glancing her way. After third time she raised her eyebrows imperceptibly, a smile playing at the corner of her lips. Brenda wrenched her eyes away and made a point of studying her hands twisting in her lap for the rest of the eulogy.

She risked one more sideways glance to see if she could catch the Captain as they filed out of the church and was rewarded instead with a light tap on her shoulder from David Gabriel.

“What’s going on with Captain Raydor?” Gabriel leaned down so he could speak quietly in her ear.

“Nothin’,” Brenda answered too quickly. “Nothin’ at all.”

“The way you were staring at her on and off for the last hour of the service I figured she had to be up to something,” Gabriel whispered.

“I was not starin’,” Brenda rertored. “Just surprised, maybe, to see her here. And perhaps a little bit impressed.”  
 “Impressed by what, Chief? The fact that our illustrious leader Chief Pope managed to put pomposity before brevity yet again in his eulogy?” Lieutenant Provenza grumped.

“Well bein’ brief has never been his strong suit,” Brenda retorted, “I’m impressed y’all were able to sit still in those uniforms,” she deftly redirected the conversation away from the subject of Captain Raydor. “Yours is starting to look decidedly tight across the middle Lieutenant.”

“I don’t try the damn thing on every week,” he groused, “I think it shrank last time I took it to the dry cleaners.”

“You just keep telling yourself that,” Flynn interrupted. 

“Hey Chief, you coming with us?” He pulled at the collar of his own uniform, his hat tipped on his head at a rakish angle. “We’re all going over to Malloy’s,” he finished.

Brenda slipped a quick glance over her shoulder at the receding crowd of officers, but the woman she was looking for had disappeared in the sea of blue. She sighed.

“Thank you, Lieutenant, but I’ve got a final few things that need wrappin’ up, “ she replied. “Y’all go on and enjoy yourselves.”

“Ok, suit yourself,” Flynn shrugged his shoulders.

“Do you want me to drive you back?” Gabriel asked.

“That’s not necessary, David,” she shooed him away, “After that service you deserve a drink just as much as everyone else. I’ll be fine.”  “Ok Chief,” he agreed slowly narrowing his eyes.

“Go on, Sergeant Gabriel,” Brenda commanded, “That’s an order.”

“Yes M’am,” he complied and turned to go, but he made a mental note to check into what FID was currently working on. The Chief didn’t spend that much time staring at Captain Raydor unless there was something major happening in internal affairs.

2.

Brenda tossed her cap onto the desk and closed her eyes, massaging her temples. She dropped her right hand, felt for the desk drawer and pulled it open. Her fingers unerringly found the round ding dong and she pressed the cool foil to the side of her cheek.

Brenda was not a woman given to introspection and when confronted with emotions that were not pleasing her default behaviour was to ignore or fight against them, whichever strategy worked best for the situation. Neither of those strategies seemed to be working particularly well in the case of Captain Raydor. While she technically outranked the FID captain, Sharon Raydor ran her own investigations which made it almost impossible for the Deputy Chief to keep her in line or indeed convince the rule-loving brunette that her way, Brenda’s way, was the correct way.   
 She looked longingly at the ding dong in her hand and then reluctantly placed it back in the drawer. No amount of chocolate was going to fix the fact that Brenda had to admit that more often than not she was contrary and combative with Sharon Raydor simply because the other woman was actually up to the task of arguing with her. It had been a long time since Brenda had met someone who she could neither charm nor coerce and the longer she had to deal with internal affairs and the infernal brunette the more disconcerting it became. 

Because Brenda had to admit a grudging respect for the woman. A respect and something else that made Brenda much more uneasy. There was a sort of magnetism to Sharon Raydor and if Brenda was going to be honest with herself, more often than not, she felt the low thrill of excitement in almost equal measure to her frustrated annoyance every time she saw the Captain striding onto one of her crime scenes.

She was still worrying the problem around in a circle when a nearly apoplectic Will Pope crashed into her office.

“Chief Johnson you assured me the case with those idiot white supremacists had been completely locked down.”

“Will, what are you talkin’ about? And what are you doin’ here anyway? The funeral ended hours ago.”

“I could ask you the same question but I’ve got bigger problems on my mind,” Pope retorted waving a file folder in front of her face. “I thought you had things under control with Captain Raydor.”

“I did,” Brenda stammered, and then more forcefully, “I do. She finished her 72 reporting period. Officers exonerated. She told me herself. Will what’s this about?”

“Our fallen comrades may have been cleared but she’s filed paperwork for an investigation into Detective Sanchez for excessive use of force.”

“She did what!?” Brenda shrieked. 

Brenda unceremoniously yanked the file folder from her superior, earning her a glare she pointedly ignored, perched her glasses on her nose and scanned through the paperwork.

“Line of duty,” she read aloud, “failure to adequately respond…” she flipped to the bottom of the form, her fury mounting.

“Taser?” she stopped and looked up at Will Pope glaring down at her.   
 “Taser,” he repeated flatly.

“That woman,” she tossed the file on her desk, “Will this is utterly ridiculous.”

“Did Detective Sanchez taser the suspect while he was in the back of a police car?”

Brenda stared at her superior, nostril’s flaring.

“I’ll ask the question again,” Pope said with deceptive softness. “Did Detective Sanchez taser a suspect, in custody, in the back of a police car with not only you, your entire squad and Captain Raydor looking on?”

“Detective Sanchez took appropriate, non-lethal measures to safely subdue as suspect.”

“What the hell was he thinking? The suspect was already restrained.”

“He slipped his cuffs,” Brenda retorted, “Will, I gave Julio the order to use the taser. It was a completely appropriate use of force given the situation and Captain Raydor knows it.”

“Not according to this complaint and request for a preliminary investigative report she doesn’t.”

“I’ll handle it,” Brenda growled, grabbing the file, and at the last minute her uniform cap, jamming it and the folder under her arm.

“You’d better, Chief Johnson,” Pope shot back. “This department has already had enough of Internal Affairs crawling up its ass. Will all the budget restraints right now I need Julio Sanchez out on the street, not riding some desk waiting for Captain Rule-Book to clear him for duty.”

Brenda turned on her heel. 

“Will, I said, I’ll take care of it,” she carefully enunciated each word.

“I mean fix the problem, Brenda,” he countered with a raised eyebrow, “Not create a situation where I have Sharon Raydor pounding down my door in the middle of the night calling for your head on a platter as well.”

“When have I been anything other than brimmin’ with tact?” Brenda snorted and slammed open the door, leaving Will Pope to see himself out of her office.

3.

Brenda stalked down the hall of the Internal Affairs Division and rounded the corner, only hesitating long enough to orient herself to find the Captain’s office. It wasn’t difficult to locate as her watchdog, Sergeant Elliot was standing at his desk, shuffling paperwork and trying to look busy when it was obvious he was only waiting for his superior to give him the all clear to go home. 

Brenda noted that Sharon Raydor’s blinds were closed, and she thinned her lips, marching forward with renewed purpose.

The Sergeant heard her coming at the last moment and whirled around.

“Deputy Chief Johnson,” he stepped forward, inserting himself between Brenda and her goal of reaching the office door. “Are you here to see Captain Raydor?”

“What do you think, Sergeant?” She pushed past him.   He reached out to pull her back, quickly thought the better of manhandling a superior officer and instead settled for putting his foot in front of the door.

“You cannot go in there. ” he said stridently.

“M’am, Sergeant EIliot,” Brenda’s voice was deceptively mild, “You can’t go in there, M’am.”

He looked up at the fury in her face and his resolve faltered but he didn’t remove his foot.

“M’am. With all due respect I’m under strict orders.”

“Sergeant I don’t care if she’s in there at a crucial stage of casting a voodoo curse on half the department. I will speak with her about railroadin’ my officer.”

“But the Captain is…” before he could finish his sentence Brenda grabbed the handle and charged roughshod over his shoe and slammed the door open.

She immediately skidded to a halt, her mouth dropping open.

“….is changing.” Sergeant Elliot finished.

Brenda’s eyes widened, a flush blooming across her cheeks.

Sharon Raydor was indeed in the act of changing, her fingers deftly working on the bottom button of her uniform shirt. She turned and looked at the clearly flustered Deputy Chief with a mild expression, faint amusement in her green eyes.

Brenda was pinned to the floor, seemingly unable to yank her gaze from the Captain’s gaping shirt, her very full breasts spilling out of an exceedingly lacy black bra.

The Captain put her hands on her hips, making no effort at all to cover her breasts, her eyes challenging Brenda to look away.

“I see you’ve managed to leave your ability to follow simple instructions back in Atlanta along with your manners.”

It was as though the Captain’s voice released Brenda from her momentary paralysis and she crossed her arms over her chest and purposefully raised her eyes and held the brunette’s gaze.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s impolite to barge in on a lady when she’s changing?”

“Well I wouldn’t be here disturbin’ you in the first place, Captain, if you hadn’t filed this ridiculous and frivolous investigation into one of my officers…” she was about to continue when Sharon raised her hand in a shooing motion.

For one brief moment Brenda thought she was gesturing to her. Her eyes widened again, this time in incredulity until she realized it was meant for the hapless Sergeant behind her.

“That will be all Sergeant EIliot,” the Captain said quietly.  
 “But,” her subordinate clearly did not want to leave his superior alone with the furious Deputy Chief.  
 Brenda’s gaze, which seemed to have a mind of its own, fell again on the Captain’s breasts as they shifted against the satin barely restraining them as Sharon motioned again for her junior officer to leave. She felt a buzz of arousal at the base of her spine and she blushed furiously.   
 This was definitely not how she had imagined this meeting unfolding. And she was certainly not supposed to be mesmerized by the Captain’s breasts nor wondering what was the colour of the nipples she could see clearly peaked against the black lace.

Brenda heard the door close as Sergeant Elliot did as he was instructed and she realized with a mounting horror that she was alone with the Captain and she had to contend not only with the woman herself and her partially exposed breasts, but the fact that she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted the Captain to cover them back up.

“Captain Raydor,” Brenda forged ahead, ever the believer in a good defense being a strong offense, “Care to explain why you’re startin’ an investigation into Detective Sanchez for excessive use of force?”

“Well he did taser a suspect senseless in the back of a police cruiser Chief Johnson,” she answered as she re-buttoned her shirt.   
It seemed to Brenda she was taking her time about it and the Deputy Chief tried to keep from glancing at the Captain’s gradually disappearing cleavage. 

“On my orders, Captain Raydor,” Brenda countered. “If you’re going to investigate anyone it should be me. For failin’ to provide a safe environment for the suspects.”

“Who says I’m not?”   
 The question hung in the air between and Brenda grit her teeth, shaking her head. She moved toward the Captain as the older woman stepped out from behind her desk. 

Brenda couldn’t help but notice the way her dress trousers molded against the curve of her hip and she unconsciously clamped her lower lip between her teeth.

“Captain Raydor,” Brenda sighed. “We both know that Ted and Stomper were correctly restrained in the back of that cruiser. You saw so yourself on Buzz’s video feed. If it hadn’t been for the camera we put back there and gettin’ their confession we couldn’t have had a resolution in this case.”

“Let me ask you this Chief Johnson,” Sharon tilted her head to one side and Brenda noticed the tight coil of her bun had loosened at some point during the afternoon and glossy, dark tendrils of her hair were curling against the long column of her neck. “If I hadn’t been standing there, how long would you have let the situation in the car go on before you called Detective Sanchez?”

“To be honest, Captain,” Brenda huffed, “I probably would’ve stopped it sooner.”

“Interesting, Chief,” Sharon murmured, taking a step closer to the diminutive blonde, “Care to elaborate on that?”

“I was simply provin’ to you that my division can follow the rules,” she raised her eyebrows, “to the letter.”

The Captain raised her eyebrows in return.

“Without you there, the moment they started in on each other I would have had Julio haul Ted out of the car.” 

“So you’re admitting that you do change your tactics when FID is involved?” 

The Captain’s voice was husky and they were standing close enough to one another that Brenda could smell her perfume. It was vanilla, but heavier, as if it was laced with a darker scent of musk. Her arousal was back and Brenda had to forcibly stop herself from reaching out and fingering the wisp of hair curling under the other woman’s jawline.

“I wouldn’t say it’s a change of tactics,” Brenda replied, “more like an executive decision to deal with the you gettin’ under my skin.”  
 The words were out of her mouth before she realized she’d said them.  
 She blinked and snapped her mouth shut, waiting for the other woman to use her words as a weapon against her.

Instead the Captain surprised her. She threw back her head and laughed.

It was deep and throaty and Brenda involuntarily shivered.

“You think that’s funny?” her voice sounded petulant in her own ears.  
 “No, Chief,” Sharon smiled, “I”m laughing because you and I are more alike than either of us want to admit.”

She closed the remaining distance between them and reached out to run her index finger gently down Brenda’s cheek, tentatively at first and then with more confidence when Brenda didn’t pull away.

“You’re completely infuriating,” the Captain confessed, her lips inches from the Deputy Chief’s.

The blood in Brenda’s head was roaring. Everything about this was ridiculous. If she’d had any idea when she’d woken up earlier that morning and pulled her dress uniform from it’s place in the back of her closet, that by the end of the evening she’d be standing in Sharon Raydor’s office, only inches from being kissed by the buttoned down brunette she would have said there was a greater chance of arriving at the murder room on Monday morning to the sight of Andy Flynn in a sombrero, guzzling tequila and heading a conga line with Buzz, Sanchez and Tao

And yet here she was, watching as her own hand floated upward and cupped the Captain’s face in her palm, feeling the softness of her skin and the gentle puff of the woman’s breath against her cheek.

“We don’t like eachother,” Brenda said in wonder as she tipped her face upward.  
 “No,” Sharon’s voice was amused, “We don’t.”

Her lips descended on Brenda’s, softly at first and then with more force. Brenda opened her mouth and groaned against Sharon, feeling the hard metal badge on her uniform dig into the other woman’s shoulder. Sharon’s tongue darted into Brenda’s mouth, teasing against the ridges, and the Deputy Chief answered back, her tongue dancing against the Captain’s.

Brenda reached up and pulled against the bun at the back of Sharon’s neck and the loose pins sprang apart. The Captain’s hair cascaded down her shoulders and Brenda wound her fingers through the thick tresses pulling Sharon closer.

Sharon answered by arching her body against the Deputy Chief and Brenda moaned again, her vision suddenly full of the Captain’s breasts straining against black lace and she longed to drop her fingers to the silver buttons on the Captain’s shirt. She settled for biting at the taller woman’s bottom lip, trailing nips and kisses along her jawline and the column of her neck. Brenda felt almost dizzy from the heady taste of musk and vanilla and she felt a flood at the apex of her thighs.

Another bolt of desire shot through her as Sharon ran her hands over the curve of her hips, cupping her ass, pulling their bodies together. Brenda whined and tilted her hips, frustrated that the belts called for in the their dress uniform hampered her ability to fully access Sharon’s heat. Her hands finally found the buttons on the Captain’s shirt and she fumbled at them as she flicked her tongue lightly over Sharon’s top lip, goading her into capturing Brenda’s mouth in a lingering kiss.

With the Captain’s shirt attended to, Brenda brushed the flat of her hands lightly against the brunette’s belly, revelling in the shiver of desire her touch illicited. She cupped the fullness of Sharon’s breasts, circling her thumbs over the hardened nipples through the black satin and the Captain responded by opening the Deputy Chief’s legs with her knee, pushing between them until Brenda was pressing and rocking against Sharon’s thigh. She felt her clit deliciously sliding along the thick inseam of her dress uniform as the Captain set up a continuous rhythm and her breath quickened, a low whine of desire starting in the back of her throat. 

She realized with a strange sense of wonder that if she didn’t stop, and soon, she was going to come simply from riding the FID Captain’s thigh. That wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all but as Sharon rocked her faster and deepened their kiss Brenda felt her thighs involuntarily clench and release with a mind of their own.

She was saved by a knock at the door, tentative a first and then with more force.

“Captain Raydor,” a voice called, “Captain is everything all right?”

It was Sergeant Elliot and Sharon tore her lips from Brenda’s, steadying them both on their feet while trying in vain to bring her breathing under control.

“I’m fine, Sergeant,” she responded her voice sounding ragged in Brenda’s ears and the Deputy Chief held her breath.

“Are you sure?” The Sergeant didn’t sound convince and Brenda heard the door snick open. 

Brenda immediately stepped in front of the Captain, hiding the fact from her subordinate that somehow his commanding officer still hadn’t managed to re-button her shirt.

“Only it was suddenly very quiet,” his voice was uneasy and he shuffled his feet, looking everywhere but at the Deputy Chief and his Captain. “I just wanted to make sure…” his voice trailed off.

“Everything is under control, Sergeant Elliot,” the Captain replied. “You are free to go home.”  “But,” he began to argue.

“You heard me, Sergeant Elliot,” the Captain reiterated, “go home, now. And be so kind as to close the door behind you.”

The Sergeant’s eyes widened, not used to his superior speaking to him in such a strident manner, but he did as he was told, backing out of the office while at the same time softly closing the door.

Brenda and Sharon held their breath until they heard his shoes, hollow in the empty corridor, as he made his retreat. 

As soon as it was quiet Brenda let out a sigh and turned back to the Captain who was hurriedly buttoning her shirt for the second time that evening. Brenda felt a sharp pain of disappointment and reached out and instinctively touched Sharon’s hand.

“Your Sergeant has terrible timin’,” she joked, hoping to cajole the other woman back into her arms.

“Hmmm, that he does,” Sharon’s green eyes were smokey an unreadable as she finished with the last button.

“And there’s still the matter of this force investigation into Detective Sanchez,” Brenda continued. “Just because you were busy,” she searched for the word, “sidetrackin’ me doesn’t mean that…’  Sharon leaned in quickly and captured the blonde’s mouth with hers, effectively cutting the Deputy Chief off in mid-sentence. Brenda opened her mouth eagerly and the kiss lingered, slower and sweeter than their earlier embrace.   
 Sharon pulled away slowly and smirked down at Brenda.

“If I’d known that kissing you would be such an effective way of shutting you up, Chief, I would have started employing it as a tactic months ago.”

Brenda pursed her lips in a moue of surprise and then she chuckled.

“I suppose I deserved that,” she said ruefully. “But if we’re not gonna be doin’ any talkin’…”

Brenda traced her thumb over the Captain’s bottom lip.

“Chief Johnson, are you suggesting we continue to make out like a couple of teenagers in my office?”  “Well is there somethin’ in that little rule book you’re so fond of that says we can’t do that?” Brenda asked coyly 

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Sharon’s face was unreadable.

“Well Captain, knowin’ you I’m sure you could quote me the subsection chapter and verse,” Brenda pulled away, suddenly embarrassed and unsure of the tentative ground they were on.

Sharon smiled wryly and tucked one of Brenda’s blonde curls behind her ear, lightly tracing it’s tiny shell in a way that made the Deputy Chief shiver.  
“Are you always this quick to jump to conclusions, Chief? Question people? Question their motives?”

“It sort of comes with the territory, Captain,” Brenda retorted.

“Departmental rules and regulations would most probably take a dim view if I continued to seduce a superior officer on the LAPD’s time, especially if said officer and I were to be in full dress uniform…..”

Brenda began to protest and Sharon stilled the Deputy Chief’s lips with her index finger.

“…I’m fairly certain, however, that the rule book would have very little to say if I continued that seduction on my own time, off LAPD property and…,” she paused, a smile playing at the corner of her lips, “….out of uniform. As long as I was granted consent.”

Brenda brushed her lips lightly across the brunette’s in a ghost of a kiss.

“Are you gonna make me fill out a form, Captain?” she whispered, “You know how much I abhor doin’ paperwork.”

Sharon laughed, swept Brenda’s uniform cap from off her desk and deftly plopped it on her head. She gave the brim a tug and then stood back.

“Paperwork? No, but I will require an escort to the parking garage. I hope you brought your own car,” she chuckled.

Brenda thinned her lips, about to throw back a barb and then she simply reached out and touched the Captain’s cheek before she turned and opened the office door to the hall beyond.

“I won’t be needin’ one,” she drawled. “I’m comin’ with you. Oh and Captain..”

Brenda turned and smiled at Sharon.

“Don’t forget your hat.”


End file.
